Confessions
by Child of Loki
Summary: Those at the ARC are keeping plenty of secrets, but what happens when they can no longer hide them? Sarah/Becker, Lester, Danny, Connor/Abby, Helen, Jenny... Chapter 9: Sarah & Becker settle some things...
1. Sara & Becker to Lester

**Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or its characters…**

**Author's Note: This is ending up to be primarily Sarah/Becker, but there will be plenty of the others thrown in…**

**Chapter Summary: Becker convinces Sarah that its time to inform Lester.

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"Sarah?"

She hadn't turned away from her research when the door opened, but the familiar voice drew her attention like no other.

It was him.

Jumping up onto a chair nearby where he stood, she wrapped her arms about his neck and leaned down to kiss him. The angle was relatively unfamiliar, and she relished the delicious novelty of it. She never was the one leaning in for the kiss, not while they were standing anyway...which led her to thoughts of the previous night, when she had him on his back, straddling his waist and...

He broke the kiss off, a serious look upon his face.

Oh, so he was being _Captain_ Becker at the moment. She accused him as much with her eyes and his look softened slightly. His hands at her waist, he lifted and set her upon the ground, whispering in her ear.

"I just wish you'd be more careful."

She looked about. There was no one in sight. Oh, he meant standing on the chair...so very overprotective, that man.

"I had you to catch me if I fell."

"As much as I hate to admit it," he replied. "I might not always be there."

The thought seemed quite disturbing to him, but...

"I can take care of myself."

He nodded his head but said nothing. There was another reason for his dropping by her lab. It wasn't one of those 'I'm not going to say I miss you but it's been over ten hours since I held you in my arms' visits. Of course, he never said that, not while at work. And of course, she was the one that would initiate any affectionate gestures. But what he did to her in one look, she felt like she could never achieve with her entire body. Unfortunately, there was only a hint of that soul-stirring spark in his stare.

"It can't be put off any longer, Sarah," he said, anticipating more evasion and avoidance tactics and continuing in a more forceful manner than he generally took with her. "We have to talk to Lester."

She released a deep, weary sigh.

And her day had started off so well. She had tracked down several new points to plug into the anomaly model, and made a great deal of progress in reconstructing Cutter's research... okay it was extremely difficult to think like that man thought, but she had determined the reason for a couple of formulas that held seemingly significant places in his notes.

But she could tell in the set of Becker's jaw, and his avoidance of her eyes that he was going to make her actually go through with it this time, after months of leaving the conversation hanging and placating his concerns about hiding this whole thing from Lester. There would be no softening him with puppy-dog eyes or pouty lips, or whispered promises of what the night would hold in store for him.

"Fine," she lamented with another poignant sigh. He gestured to allow her to proceed first, as if she would try to make a run for it. Connor apparently had left Abby's prehistoric arboretum door open yet again (which he would no doubt pay dearly for later), but Sarah was quite certain that there was no way she could make it there with Action Man keenly on her heels.

"He looks busy," she whispered hastily to Becker when they reached Lester's office door. "We better come back..."

"Do come in, Dr. Page," the bureaucrat with apparently excellent hearing commented nonchalantly without looking up from the file before him. She felt a steady hand at her back. Whether it was meant as supportive or restrictive, she didn't know, but either way there was only direction to go.

"Captain Becker," Lester added the acknowledgement upon looking up to properly greet the Egyptologist. Sarah attempted to approach the perceptive man's desk in as steady a manner possible, but she really didn't have the nerve. Thankfully, Becker's hand was still firmly guiding her at the small of her back.

Lester's face progressed from mildly uninterested to curious to just plain frustrated.

"Well, was there any particular reason why you're disrupting my annual performance evaluations?" he snapped in his usual manner when Sarah failed to say anything.

"Dr. Page needs to be removed from field duty," Becker announced, stepping forward and assuming his military 'at-ease' stance.

Lester never pretended to understand how the minds of his ridiculous rag-tag team of scientists worked, but he did pride himself in being aware of all significant developments and occurrences within the unit. But this, this was entirely baffling.

"Is there any particular reason or did she just make a comment about the size of your gun?" he asked sarcastically.

Sarah glanced at her lover. His highly-trained facade apparently had failed him, his eyes widening in shocked embarrassment. Was Lester just spouting random innuendo that was amusing to him for its supposed inaccuracy? Or did he know about them?

"Well?" he prompted when again he received no response.

Sarah really couldn't find the words. They were there, but they wouldn't come, but there was no way Becker was letting her cower away from this confrontation yet again. So she found the hem of her sweater. Well, it was more like a blissfully warm sea of sweater that she had been swimming in for that past month. Slowly she lifted it, revealing a camisole stretched snuggly across a small, round belly.

"You're pregnant?"

Being the one to force Lester into a loss for sardonic words would have been an extremely triumphant moment, had she not been terrified that he'd know the truth about her child. Would he force her or Becker out of the ARC? Already, their child had rendered her incapable of aiding her team in the field. Would Lester see their relationship as a liability? She didn't want to leave, and despite his supposedly stoic facade, she knew Becker loved his job.

Lester cleared his throat, disrupting all of her worrisome thoughts, transforming them into pure anxious anticipation.

"We certainly can't knowingly place a pregnant woman in harm's way," he asserted. "Violates Health and Safety, you know."

She didn't hide her sigh of relief as the hard man's face softened. She wasn't in horrible trouble...at least not yet. But did he know? She kept her eyes away from the man who had given her a fat belly, knowing what she could not keep completely hidden in any look she gave him. No, don't give Lester the least bit to chew on for he was far too clever.

"Go on. Back to work," he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

Sarah seized the opportunity to get away, caressing her pregnant belly contemplatively as she made her way back to her lab. Five months along and she really wouldn't have been able to hide it for much longer, especially on her petite frame. Becker had been right to make her confess. But she knew his real motives; the danger of her dealing with creatures and anomalies. Where had he gone off to?

...

Becker stood as stock still at attention as he possibly could. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to make his escape right behind Sarah, for Lester had requested a word with him. He glanced at his boss out of the corner of his eye, quickly, before staring straight ahead again.

"Oh, calm down, Captain," Lester said. "I'm not going to give you a dressing down for failing to keep... Of all the loose cannons in this facility, I thought you'd be the last to do something so very unprofessional."

Becker fidgeted, but said nothing, quieted by Lester's raised hand.

"But I'm not assuming anything," he continued, pacing about before his head of security. "I'm not even asking." He stopped and turned to face the soldier. "But if I were to ask if..."

"I could not tell you that I am not, sir," he replied obediently, flatly.

Lester smirked.

"I thought so," he mused to himself, returning to his desk before adding, "Dismissed."

"Sir?" Becker inquired without moving an inch. He thought for certain that since the man knew what neither of them outright said, he would've been severely reprimanded by now for fraternizing with a woman he was supposed to be protecting, if not transferred yesterday.

Lester sighed in a frustrated manner.

"Look. I know you, Becker," he pointed out. "You're not going to let this interfere with your job. As far as I can tell it hasn't interfered with your job for the past...er...?"

"Six months, sir."

"Right. If anything, you're more likely to go out of your way to keep Dr. Page safe. And since she's one of the only people with a chance of understanding Cutter's model, let alone rebuilding it, I don't see a downside to that. Now get out of here so I can get some work done!"

The soldier wouldn't call it a victory, but took the win anyway, slightly surprised at the tolerant, even compassionate reaction of his boss. Unfortunately, the battle of making amends to Sarah for forcing her confession still laid ahead, and she could torture him like no other…

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**Author's Note: Up next...Lester**


	2. Lester to Empty Apartment

**Author's Note: Would have to take place after resolution of Series 3 cliffy…**

**Chapter Summary: Lester refuses to admit it...even to himself.

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It had been one of those days...

Well, every day at the ARC seemed to be one of _those_ days. Monsters, cover-ups, irresponsible scientists and freelancers taking stupid risks, and the inevitable death.

James Lester needed a cup of tea and a sit down. The kettle announced the completion of its task in perfect timing. Finally, something was going right.

A little indulgence was precisely what was required by such a day. Thus, James reached for the fatty, extra thick cream that he bought directly from the farmer. He wasn't even sure if it was visually inspected upon leaving the cow, let alone pasteurized. Maybe that's why the only label on the container read 'consume at your own risk.'

However, despite its dubious origins, it was a vital component to producing what inarguably was the most satisfying cup of tea known to man. Laying his hand about the container of said ambrosia, he heard the telltale sloshing, felt the devastatingly inadequate weight of it.

There was but a few drops left...

"Connor!"

He found himself shouting the young man's name in infuriated disappointment before realizing his error. The boy no longer resided in the flat. Presumably, he arranged for other accommodations (besides returning to habitating within the ARC itself-not that they all didn't spend far too many hours in that damnable place.) Perhaps, James wasn't supposed to know, but he was quite certain it was by the grace of Abby Maitland that there were no longer hygienically questionable articles of clothing tucked into places even the most unconventional thinker would have to strain to imagine.

And while his favourite possessions were no longer turning up half-devoured by long-extinct critters, there was also no one to blame but himself for the vast disappointment of a creamless cup of tea.

Yes, that was it. He simply missed not having someone to vent his anger upon. For there was no possibility at all that he had become somewhat oddly attached to the strange, highly annoying boy.

"None whatsoever," he announced aloud, whilst sipping a less-than-heavenly beverage in his empty apartment.

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**Up Next: Danny Quinn...**


	3. Danny to Patrick Quinn

**Author's note: I don't think I like this one for some reason. But since I've had over a week and done nothing about it, I'm just going to post it anyway.  
**

**Chapter Summary: Was it really that easy for Danny to accept his brother's fate?  


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"Hey."

Danny Quinn greeted the cold, silent air like it was an acquaintance he saw everyday.

Okay, he wasn't talking to thin air. But he might as well have been. Simultaneously, it felt silly and yet necessary. Somehow it was just as it should be, not like reality actually was. Reality was in error. He _should_ be able to greet his brother in an informal manner and have a real conversation.

That had all been stolen from him-from them both. And so much more had been stolen from his brother.

"Looks like I'm the one haunting you," he commented, humor edging his voice but not a trace of it in his heart. It was ironic that he couldn't let go of a ghost. But he supposed that was the truth behind the notion that deceased souls could haunt the living.

Danny sighed. It was difficult to tell people these sorts of things. And ever since Jenny Lewis had walked away from the ARC, he felt like he once more had no one in which to confide. His brother's not really present ghost seemed like the next best thing to the woman whom with he had an instant connection.

"I truly thought that since I finally knew what happened to you, I could move on," he said quietly, staring at a meaningless point in the distance. He was even incapable of making eye contact with a headstone whilst discussing feelings.

"Saving people, fighting dinosaurs. You know my ego. It seemed like the perfect thing for me," he continued, his need to release some of his burdens and to straighten muddled thoughts bolstering his bravery to give emotions voice.

"Everything was fine at first. Or maybe I just didn't notice it. But soon I found myself wanting to know, needing to know what lay behind every anomaly, whether it was the one you went through...whether I could still find you."

He paused, swallowing back a lump in his throat and battling down the tears that threatened. Even after all these years, even after knowing the truth, it still hurt.

"I miss you."

This would be the part where he should put flowers on the grave. Except, he just wasn't that sort of person. And neither was his brother. What would a teenage boy want with flowers, anyway? Let alone a dead one.

That was wrong. Danny had to admit. They were a gesture. That's why people left flowers. A physical way of saying 'You were here. I loved you. And I'll never forget you.'

Sad thing was that they needed the flowers to say it at all. They just couldn't lie to that person-that fond memory. Couldn't say that the memory was fading and they weren't doing all they could to cling to it. Couldn't admit that bar these moments (anniversaries, birthdays and the like) they had indeed forgot, had already moved on with their lives.

And that's why Danny Quinn did not need to leave flowers on his brother's vacant grave.

He would never forget- could _never_ move on, even if he wanted to do so. His brother may have been at rest wherever..._whenever_...he was, but Danny's mind would never find solace. Not until-

"I'm going to bring you home," He promised quietly.

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**Up Next: Some 'girl talk' between Abby and Sarah...**


	4. Abby to Sara

**Author's Note: Can't forego the Abby/Connor whatnot! Same issue as with the last chapter-doesn't feel right to me, but has stagnated for over a week, thus posting despite.  
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**Chapter Summary: With some coaxing, Abby comes clean…

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"What's the deal with you and Connor, anyway?" Sarah probed over some chips for which Abby and she had nipped out of the ARC to satisfy a craving.

"I don't know what you mean," Abby replied without meeting the other woman's eyes.

"That!" Sarah interjected her mouth not completely devoid of half-masticated chips. "That's precisely what I mean!"

"What?" The young woman's cheeks had begun to turn pink and she shifted a bit uncomfortably in her chair.

"You two obviously are mad about each other," Sarah continued.

"We're...er...we're taking it slow," Abby eventually offered as explanation. "It's never good to rush into a physical relationship, you know, do something you might regret?"

The young woman froze, realizing the implications of what she had said. Her cheeks colored slightly. They all knew Sarah wasn't married and supposedly had no official boyfriend. They also all had some ideas as to who was the father of her baby, which given how long she had kept it secret, any relationship seemed to have developed awfully fast.

"But it's an entirely different situation than yours..." she tried to recover her stupid remark and spare Sarah the embarrassment that was already apparent in the way she looked away from Abby.

"It's okay, Abby," Sarah coaxed, returning her attention to the presently awkward and guilt-filled girl. She knew that there was no insult or harm meant in the statement. The confused younger woman simply didn't ever know how to respond to implications of Connor's affection, or apparently, Connor's affection itself.

Perhaps it was just experience that made the difference. Abby and Connor were young and seemed shy about their deep-rooted feelings, whereas Sarah had little qualms about embracing the intense attraction between Becker and herself. And neither had he...

"It is quite different," Sarah conceded. Sliding a hand over her uncomfortably large and pregnant belly, she sighed contentedly before meeting Abby's eyes with a serious look. "I just don't want you to miss out. Love like that is rare, Abby. It really is...And it's just brilliant when you embrace it."

"I wouldn't say that I lo-" Abby attempted to protest, but Sarah cut her off with a 'are you still trying to lie to me or yourself?' look.

There was an awkward, tense silence, but not the kind that arose between people who disliked one another.

"The first step is to admit it to your self," Sarah commented nonchalantly, unwilling to let the issue go without making some sort of progress.

"Isn't that advice for alcoholics and mentally unstable people?" Abby shot back; another futile attempt to deflect Sara's persistent meddling into a subject that made her quite uncomfortable.

The young woman sighed. None of them had much a life outside of the ARC and Sarah was inarguably the closest thing to a girl friend Abby possessed. She really didn't want to put her off by being all terse and closed-off. On the other hand, this whole /thing/ with Connor would be more difficult to ignore after discussing it aloud with another person. Then again, Sara hdidn't appear to be of the mind to let it drop anytime soon.

"Fine," she eventually conceded after several long moments of debate, which was apparent on her face.

Sarah leaned in eagerly.

"Well?" the archaeologist prompted.

"Hold on a smidge," Abby threw up her hand, a sly smile teasing her lips. "There's something I want to know, too."

"Are you proposing an exchange of information?" Sarah narrowed her eyes, but a smile lit her face as well. "And what exactly merits confession of your blatantly obvious secret?"

"If it's so _blatantly obvious_, then why don't you get off my back about it?" Abby snapped.

Sarah threw her hands up in a placating gesture, feeling guilty about pushing her closest female friend a little too far. One would think their lives were interesting enough that she wouldn't need to cling to such intrigue as who fancied whom and playing at matchmaker.

"I'm sorry Abby," she said sincerely. "What is it you want to know?"

"Who's the father of your baby," Abby supplied, perking up at her friend's renewed interest.

Furrowing her brow and chewing her lip, Sarah debated telling her the truth. Obviously, Abby was good at keeping secrets, even from herself. And it really wasn't meant to be a secret. They just hadn't figured out how to tell the others, found the right time. But she should probably discuss this with him first. Hand on her swollen belly, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair before meeting her friend's eyes.

"Deal," she conceded. "But you first. You and Connor: spill it."

Abby blushed as she spoke. It started off as the faintest bit of color, but by the time she had finished her normally pale cheeks were crimson. She told Sarah how at first she hadn't even been remotely interested in Connor, that he actually sort of repelled her. She confessed that she wasn't sure when exactly her feelings had changed. They had become friends first, and were still sort of friends before anything else, which was why it was difficult to take that next step. But he was sweet and considerate, and funny despite his oft dysfunctional sense of humor. She regaled her friend with various anecdotes and instances that brilliantly illustrated in a nutshell who Connor was, her eyes lighting up with the joy he brought her.

Sarah had to admit that Abby knew the young man better than anyone. And from what she had observed, they made each other better people, complemented one another in both skills and personality. If there had ever been a better match, Sarah had never witnessed it. She informed the young woman of her conclusion and her blush appeared to deepen further, if that were even possible.

After taking several moments to recover from the embarrassment of expressing feelings in a manner she was unaccustomed to-gushing like a teenager with her first crush-Abby faced Sarah once more. She raised her eyebrows in anticipation as Sarah seemed to struggle to find the words.

"It's Becker, isn't it?" Abby interjected, unable to contain her curiosity long enough to allow the woman to collect herself and reveal the truth.

Sarah nodded her head, shy smile twisting her mouth.

"Yes," she eventually acknowledged aloud.

"It knew it! That lecherous ba..." Abby exclaimed and then trailed off as she realized they had gained the attention of the entirety of the shop's clientele.

"Please don't tell the others yet," Sarah pleaded quietly. "It would be better if he doesn't find out that I told you by Connor joshing him about it."

"Just between us girls, then." Abby winked at Sarah who smiled over their little secret bond. The big question was how she was going to collect on that bet from Connor without breaking her promise?

"Deal," Sarah confirmed as they both prepared to return to the ARC. It would probably take a great deal of thought, but she couldn't help but consider the different ways she could try to push the young couple together, even knowing that she should just leave them to their own gradual development.

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**A/N: Probably not in character, but what the hey. For some reason Sarah seemed to have a facetious side to me, and she's an archaeologist-hence, loves to poke around in other's business. Not sure about Abby...  
**


	5. Helen to Nick

**A/N: I've had this one written from the first moment of conception of this story, but am still not sure how I feel about its characterization/validity…**

**Summary: Helen's last thoughts are of Nick… (first person for some reason)**

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_It is true, what they say..._

_Your whole existence flashes before your eyes upon the moment of your death. For what reason, who knows? Is it a moment of evaluation, judgment? Is your soul being weighed, the terms of your eternity being calculated and determined?_

_Or is it just the random, desperate firing of your synapses, all functioning in overdrive as a futile attempt at self preservation in the precise moment where there is no longer anything your mind or body can do to save itself?_

_Whatever the reason, this is that moment for me. The raptor...I saw it too late and my time of atonement stretches before me. I am aware of everything I have ever done, said, thought...And yet I dwell upon you, Nick._

_The one most atrocious mistake I have ever made._

_Why is it so clear now that it's too late? What have I done, my dear beloved?_

_I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve to die. It had all made so much sense to me. You, it was /you/ who had destroyed the future. But how was I so certain? What irrefutable evidence was there that could persuade me to look you in the eye and pull that trigger?_

_Was I simply jealous, selfishly taking you from the world because I could not have you?_

_No, no! I had been so sure. It had been so clear! Forgive me, Nick, oh forgi-_

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**A/N: A little short, but perhaps concise? (which would be a change for my wordy tendencies) There are still others too come…sometime soon (I hope)**


	6. Becker to Priest

**Author's note: I had this written among the first few, but didn't know where I wanted to put it, I guess. It's going here. **

**Summary: Becker's guilt conscience.

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The small room was dark. The smell of incense and decades of dust was oppressive. But Becker supposed the experience wasn't meant to be pleasant.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he followed the standard form. "It has been two years since my last confession."

Despite being raised semi-devoutly, he was by no means a regular attendee to mass. Hadn't set foot inside a church in years upon years until his conscience was overburdened beyond his capabilities to cope.

He had killed a man.

It wasn't the first time. And not only had it been in the line of duty, but in self defense as well. Yet still, never had he taken a life with his bare hands, never had he watched the life drain from another human being's eyes. It had haunted him every night for months upon months until he sought the forgiveness he needed.

And then he had basically abandoned his religion again, finding a gun to be a more steady and comforting companion. But it could not provide the peace of mind he needed now.

"What is it that brings you to confession, today, my son?" The father's voice had all the surface appearance of being compassionate and concerned, but Becker could detect the boredom underneath. And yet somehow, it didn't invalidate his desire to unburden his soul to the man...well, it was really for God's ears, wasn't it? Or was it just for his own conscience?

"Since my last confession, I've killed countless numbers of creatures," He began with the smaller stuff that didn't concern him all that much. "Actually, pretty sure that they weren't God's creations."

The attention of the man on the other side of the confessional seemed quite a bit more rapt over his bizarre statement. Becker decided to continue; better to put it all out there and receive absolution and penance in a complete package that he could maybe remember.

"I've taken the Lord's name in vain about a thousand times..." he paused thoughtfully. "..._a week_."

"I've lusted and given into carnal desires."

"A common weakness of the flesh," the priest placated encouragingly.

"There's going to be a child because of it," Becker announced quietly. This was the fact that was truly bothering him. He didn't know what to do or think about it. He was crazy about Sarah...positively insane. And her child, their child, he knew he would love, loved already. But it was her feelings...he just didn't know. Had he pressured her into keeping the baby? Is that what she wanted? Had he done this to her? Burdened and changed her life forever? However, that wasn't an official sin in the eyes of the Catholic church. But there was an aspect to it that was, so he added, "Born out of wedlock."

"That is unfortunate," the priest commented, surprisingly without much judgment in his voice. "But every child is a gift from God."

Becker just nodded his head, unable to speak. This whole sacrament wasn't quite doing it's job. There was someone else he should be talking to.

"Thank you, father." He indicated his desire to leave the confessional.

"Take some time to meditate upon these things and be absolved. In the name of the father, the son and the holy ghost."

The priest ended their session, but as Becker rose to leave, he added, "If you love this woman, consider doing right by her."

_Hmm... _Becker thought. Perhaps confession was good for the soul, for he now realized there was someone with which he really need to have this discussion.

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**A/N: I feel like the Sarah/Becker bits are so OOC to pull the rest of this little endeavor astray. Oh, well. Can't resist them.**


	7. Connor to Rex

**Author's note: Wow. This fic only took me just about forever to resume…**

**Chapter Summary: Connor is tempted...**

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"Just me'n'you, eh, Rex?" Connor asked of the prehistoric lizard as he entered Abby's otherwise empty flat. "Boys' night in, then?"

Sometime later, Connor awoke with a start, barely catching himself from falling off the couch by placing a hand square in the remainders of dinner, a pizza box lying open upon the floor. The cold leftovers squished unpleasantly in between his fingers.

Rex chirped at being dislodged from his nest of blankets that had been wound about Connor's legs. Gliding gracefully above the struggling, grumbling mess that was one of his keepers, the prehistoric lizard lighted upon the arm of the sofa. He cocked his head, focusing a surprisingly intelligent eye upon the young man who had finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position, licking sauce and congealed cheese off his fingers.

"What're you looking at?" he defended against his pet's scrutinizing stare. Well, Rex was much more Abby's lizard, than Connor had any claim to the creature. But their lives had merged so much that it was oft indistinguishable where the line between hers and his lay. At least, in every way except the most important ones...

Connor sighed, trying to leave his sad contemplations behind.

The unceasing chatter on the television finally drew his attention. At some point, it had switched over to the news. He lost his seemingly trivial concerns in the overwhelming misery of the world. Murders, Tsunamis, hurricanes, wars, genocides, oil spills...

He choked back the tears.

This was why he didn't monitor current events. He'd always preferred immersing himself 100 million years in the past, or in the realm of fantasy-comic books, video games, movies. The real world was just so painful. And he always felt so powerless.

But that wasn't true, was it?

There was something he could do about it. Every single anomaly was an opportunity to change things, wasn't it?

He had looked up to Professor Cutter, believed in his wisdom. At first, it had never occurred to him to question the paleontologist's assertion that the past must not be trifled with, that the future should not be sacrificed to their curiosity, whims. But how could one in their situation never even contemplate such a temptation? When there was so much in the world that could be fixed with just the minutest of nudges?

Rex nosed his arm, chirping lightly, giving Connor a sympathetic look that seemed to say 'I know you're sad. Talk to me.'

"You know, sometimes I don't think Helen Cutter was entirely wrong," Connor said quietly, barely spitting out the end of his confession before having to force down the bile that bit at his throat. He coughed.

She was a crazy, evil woman, who had killed one of his dearest friends, caused the death of another. But was there not a kernel of truth in her seemingly selfish motives, that the present and future could be changed for the better? Perhaps, that was why her madness was all the more terrifying. The invitation to that path had all the appearance of goodness.

Connor shook his head, grabbed the remote and began flipping channels, until he settled on a classic episode of Trek. 'Mirror, Mirror' where the bad guys were easily identifiable by goatees and golden sashes. And the commentary typical to the sci-fi genre was upon a society 40 years past.

Rex curled up in his lap, and Connor sighed away the darkness, letting himself be carried away by the overacting, dated effects, ridiculous camera angles and bright colours.

Sometimes it was safer to live in a fantasy world than in one's own head.

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**A/N: Connor seems to innocent and naïve at times, so this might not be in character. But could you really assume someone working with rips in time, someone as brilliant and curious as him wouldn't be tempted, just a little bit, to be able to do the world some good?**


	8. Jenny to Coworker

**Author's Note: Perhaps a topic that has been beaten to death at this point, and probably not a 'confession' in the strictest sense, but this is how I thought Jenny might feel reflecting back on her time at the ARC and decision to leave.**

**Chapter Summary: Jenny's tragic love life, as told in a few forlorn sentences...

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"Have you ever been in love?"

It was one of those next-level getting to know each other questions, the kind that popped up when you were moving from strong acquaintance to close friend. And while it was nice to feel that integrated into her new life, Jenny Lewis was quite certain that they weren't as close as her coworker thought them to be. There were things about herself that she would never tell anyone, at least not anyone in her new life. _No_, she corrected herself. This was her _real_ life. All that had happened before, that was the lie.

"That's a complicated question, Sharon," she replied, giving the slightly younger woman a half-hearted smile.

"Ooh," the brunette perked up, trading her sandwich in for rapt attention. Lunch break had instantly gotten much more interesting. "There's a story there."

Jenny shrugged, deciding to play it mute as she always had to probing questions about her recent past.

"Oh, C'mon, Jenny," she pleaded. "You show me yours and I'll show you mine."

Jenny's eyes widened at the remark, her eyebrows raising playfully high on her forehead.

"I didn't mean like that," Sharon slapped Jenny's arm lightly.

The world-weary woman chewed her lip contemplatively. Expressions of emotional or personal issues did not come naturally to her, especially not after all her years in public relations. Ultimately, isolation in dealing with concepts and feelings that she could just not wrap her mind around had compelled her to share, if ever briefly, her convoluted thoughts with Sarah Page and Danny Quinn.

But the patient archaeologist and compassionate ex-cop were no longer in her life. She had vowed to leave that life, all the pain, entirely behind her. And all she had achieved for the maneuver was to be plagued by the _'what if?'_s and nightmares, further trapped in her own morose thoughts without anyone to lend an ear.

Jenny sighed.

"I was engaged, once," she began her tale, laughing ironically at how much time seemed to have passed. "It wasn't all that long ago, really."

"What happened?" Sharon interjected, showing her interest in her friend's story. Odd, that it was almost easier to spill one's heart to someone she didn't know all that well than to someone who knew every thought in her head.

"I met a man," she continued, finding it easier as she went along. "Through work. An insufferable, insane man, who possessed an intensity I had never encountered before, and never will again. And sometimes, when he looked at me..."

For the first time in quite a while, Jenny allowed herself that fleeting indulgence of fantasy, losing herself in the notion that it truly was she whom conjured those feeling in Nick Cutter, not the mysterious, non-existent Claudia Brown.

"You fell in love with him?" Sharon enquired, whispering, for she had leaned in so close.

_Had she done just that?_

"I don't know."

"He loved you, though?"

"He..." This was the difficult part, that she could never figure out. "He had a lot of baggage. A psychotic ex-wife who had made him think her dead. A woman he loved had disappeared without a trace. And as for me, sometimes I think it was just that I reminded him of _her. _But I wasn't her."

She sighed.

"And yet I let myself think we could've... We never had the chance."

"Why?" Sharon asked. "Was it the ex-wife?"

_It sure was that psychotic bitch!_

"He died." Jenny looked away, choking back the tears. Years of training and her natural aptitude for adorning a stoic facade made for a quick recovery.

She smiled as she contemplated the last part of her story, those few days leading up to her life-altering decision.

"And then there was Danny. It was far too soon, and he was far too interested."

"'Interested' is good," Sharon encouraged, bumping her arm against Jenny's in a sympathetic gesture.

"I just had to leave that whole situation," Jenny finished explaining. "My head was so mixed up, I wasn't even certain of my own name."

_Or that I wasn't meant to be someone else._

There was a moment of silence, as the women let what had been shared settle. And then Jenny switched it off, as she always did.

"So, tell me about your battle scars," Jenny diverted the subject away from herself.

That small, highly trained part of her brain honed from sitting through hundreds of boring meetings, paid attention and processed the stories Sharon began to tell. But the rest of her mind couldn't help but wander to the only man who had really, _really_ listened to her. No one had ever seemed so very concerned for her feelings, except when they directly or indirectly affected themselves. Danny Quinn had hardly known her, demanded nothing from her, but cared about her well being.

She wondered what he was doing now. And sadly, given the nature of the job, she had to wonder if he were even still alive…

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**A/N: One more to go…  
**


	9. Sarah & Becker to Each Other

**Author's note: I, in fact, have not fallen off the face of the earth. I obey gravity. It's the law.**

**Anyway, I think this took me so long to get to/finish because it's so sappy, I may have vomited in my mouth a little whilst attempting to write it. That's probably a sign that I should've taken a different approach to this last installment (but it needed to be resolved in this manner, I think-or I'd be going on forever…) It could also just be the duality of my tendency to write fluff while my preference lies with violence/angst.**

**Oh, and, like with the first chapter, nothing really perspective specific (jumps from Sarah to Becker, hopefully with some sort of flow?).

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**

Out of all the different ways he touched her, Sarah decided that this was her favourite caress. It was slow, meditative. His hand making gentle, concentric circles across her very round belly.

There was no demand in it, no lust-not that she did not enjoy that as well. It was pure adoration, a kind of love Sarah had honestly never received before. True, it was likely directed at the child growing inside of her, but when he looked up into her eyes, the same affection was translated to her person.

And it was one that didn't seek reciprocation.

It just was.

And that was enough.

That was why she favoured that caress above all others.

"Mm..." she moaned softly, as the soldier continued to run his strong hands over her body, tenderly working out the knots in the burdened muscles of her back, neck and shoulders. "That feels wonderful."

When she finally opened her eyes, she frowned, finding a contemplative sadness in her lover's face. She was so happy, it disturbed her to think him to feel any less.

"What is it?" she asked, placing her hand upon his face. He kissed her palm, pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her cheek, making her blush like a schoolgirl over the unexpected sweetness of the gesture.

When he pulled away to look into her eyes, there was an odd sort of smile on his face, sincere yet restrained, as if some concern were weighing down his thoughts.

"I..." he began hesitantly. This obviously had to do with feelings and Sarah, for it was the only topic that ever found the soldier in such a degree of uncertainty. "I haven't done the right thing here."

Panic momentarily overwhelmed her, until she realized that no one could look at her, touch her in that way, and not be entirely sincere. There was no doubt as to the nature of his feelings. So, then what was bothering him? Preventing him from touching her, kissing her, holding her close?

"I don't understand," she said softly, refusing to let him pull away from her. Whatever it was, apparently it made him feel guilty.

He fixed his eyes upon her, a determined look upon his face. Captain Becker had made a decision. And there would be no turning back now.

"I don't think I've ever told you how much you mean to me," he began.

"You didn't have to say it. I know," she reassured, leaning in to kiss him and end his emotional discomfort. He stopped her, continuing to stare intently into her eyes.

"And I never thought to ask you whether..." he swallowed hard, briefly looking away. "Whether you really wanted to have this baby."

The last bit was barely a whisper, but the anxiety and sorrow cut through her as harshly as any cry of alarm. Instinctively her hand went to her pregnant belly.

"How could you think that I..." Oh my god. She had never questioned. His reaction had been positive upon the revelation, in his own reserved way, but- she choked back tears. "You don't want her?"

"Of course I want her!" he exclaimed, obviously alarmed. "All I could think about since the moment I learned about the baby was meeting our child, holding her in my arms. I was rendered blind to anything else. It didn't even occur to me to consider your wishes."

They had never seemed to have a problem communicating their affection. In fact, words were rarely, if ever, required. And yet the lack of a simple, frank conversation had led to all.../this/… worry, and hurt.

Sarah threw her arms around his neck, and he finally let her pull him close, kissing his jaw, whispering in his ear. How did he not know she was mad about him? How did he not know she was full to burst with joy over their child?

"Did I ever give you any reason to doubt?"

"No," he responded, relieved that at least part of his anxiety and guilt had been for naught.

He sat her back down on the sofa, so he could pin her once more with his expressive, dark eyes.

"There's something else," she prompted.

"I should be your husband."

There was a silence that couldn't have lasted more than a minute, but felt like an eternity to the soldier who, unused to emotionally exposing himself, had never felt more vulnerable in his life.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

Her expression was unreadable. His heart was a knot.

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly, saying nothing as he mistrusted his words. Instead, he poured everything into his gaze, into her dark eyes locked upon his.

A smile twitched the corner of her lips, but she remained silent. In classic 'Sarah' fashion, she wasn't going to let him get away with anything he didn't earn, despite how badly she wanted to relent.

He grinned broadly, for he knew what was in her heart.

"Will you marry me, Sarah Page?"

Her eyes twinkled, even though she adorned a mock serious face.

'Hmm..." she pondered facetiously. "I don't know..."

Careful of her large belly, he playfully wrestled her to lie supine on the couch beneath him.

His heart raced.

He smiled.

The longest relationship he had ever sustained, much longer than the couple weeks a girlfriend tended to last before she gave up or he lost interest, and Sarah still could make his heart pound like the first time she touched him.

Pinning her arms above her head, he hovered over her, his lips mere millimeters from hers. She squirmed when he refused to relinquish the kiss he knew she craved. The round bulk of her pregnant belly pressed against his stomach, her breasts periodically brushing against his chest as her breathing became heavy with the urgency of her desire for his lips.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear and she whimpered her displeasure at being refused her need to kiss the father of her unborn child.

"Tell me," he growled more with lust than with frustration. She gasped as his voice rumbled through her once more. "Tell me your answer."

Her stubborn streak snapped like a dry twig beneath a Tyrannosaur's foot when he nuzzled her neck and brushed his lips against her cheek.

"Yes," she confessed in a voice that was almost pleading. "Yes, I'll marry you."

She was rewarded with his lips, his mouth and hands, his body, the entirety of him, including his heart and soul. And she was just as much his, willingly, desperately, his.

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**A/N: And…done. **


End file.
